e
plug in our rechargeable souls and wait for night with its mess of tenderness
to seep into our Bosch bodies as they soak up the overflow. We were listening
to Throbbing Pink Jesus and getting it all wrong. Again. Another dead end.
You were waiting for the event but we are the event. Nothing else is going
to happen so we might as well keep dreaming each other. At least we know
we exist in that script.
Weíre in a cowboy bar. I ride a mechanical
bull. You hear a man in a Stetson say ďIíd crawl 100 miles through the desert
to suck the cock of the last man to fuck Dolly Parton.Ē
The next day a plane crashes into a kitchen.
All the woman remembers is a man with his head on fire.
These things seem connected. Different parts
of my body argue about the connections. Antichrist/Antifreeze. You canít
help it, everything is connected. Synchronicity. Itís a word lodged in your
brain like a tumor. Asphalt/myfault/yourfault/ourfault.
Did you know that color drains from the eyes
of the dead? Did you know Hitler was a vegetarian? Do you know why the sky
is blue?
The alarm keeps ringing. Every morning at
8am the alarm rings. It rings and rings until we turn it off and merge with
the city.
This is not what I wanted.
I wanted to set off on an epic quest to penetrate
the pores of midnight. I wanted you to fuck me to the Mormon Tabernacle
Choirís hallelujah chorus. I wanted a blimp with our names on it to impregnate
the dead sky. I wanted to say something important that doesnít sound like
everyone elseís something important.
Would you like fries with that?
Iím up all night, telephone sprouting from
my ear, fingering the umbilical cord that carries your disembodied voice
into my body. Distance makes me cold and crazy. Distance makes me feel more
real. And though I cry Hollywood tears I have never trusted your hands.
Divorced from the body I can almost believe in you.
You reading a book on the end of painting.
The end of the novel. The end of theater. The end of pornography. The end
of video unreeling towards the end of the millennium that ends us all.
This is what you were waiting for.
What are you waiting for?